


Sunshower

by quietoile



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Character Study, Found Family, Gen, I make the rules, M/M, closing gaps in canon, i love raiden (fucks with him for like 10k words), mild/implied child abuse, raiden is hard of hearing and autistic, snake is tsundere about being a dad, solid snake is raiden's uncle, sunny is autistic also
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2020-03-02 08:22:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18807364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietoile/pseuds/quietoile
Summary: AU where Raiden joins Philanthropy and lives with Snake and Otacon after saving Sunny. Raiden-centric, set between 2 and 4.





	1. under sunshine pylons we'll meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here goes nothing

_9437\. 9437._ Raiden took a long, low breath, repeating the intel to himself over and over to keep himself grounded as he skulked through the halls, double-checking every room number. He had the keycard, had the uniform, had all the information he needed; he just had to find the kid and get out of this hellhole. Whenever he passed too close to a door, he could hear sounds of human suffering, horrifically unique every time—drills boring through bone, children crying for their parents, the terrified muttering of those already driven mad—and it was entirely too much to bear. _9437\. 9437. 9437._

 

 _Area 51,_ they'd called it.  _No aliens here but the freaks running the place._

 

After minutes that felt like an unbearable eternity, Raiden found the door he was looking for, and suppressed a shaky sigh of relief, swiping his keycard over the lock.

 

Instead of the hospital room-like living quarters he’d expected, he found himself standing in a tiny room, windowless and with a slot in the wall next to another door; his breathing hitched as his mind contemplated the implications of this, but he didn't allow himself to speculate—he couldn't bear to imagine any more torture, much less to a child as young as the one he was looking for. Raiden dusted himself off, attempting to make himself look as nonthreatening as possible, and opened the second door, quietly, carefully.

 

       Amazingly, the child didn't cry immediately upon seeing him, despite looking incredibly startled. This room was more like he’d expected, with a hospital bed, nondescript wires and machines, and a notable lack of stimulus for a toddler that couldn't be older than two, other than a small desktop computer. Raiden kneeled, facing Olga’s child at eye level, arranging his features into a gentle expression. He knew better than to just grab them and run—knew he had to build some sort of trust first.

  

Their hazel eyes gazed at Raiden, wide but not afraid, like they’d never seen another person before— _maybe they haven’t_ , his brain supplied—and he moved closer, offering one hand like an olive branch.

 

       A tiny hand reached up and grabbed his forefinger, and he nearly teared up. _Oh, God, they’re so small._ He cleared his throat, hoping his mask didn't make his voice sound frightening. “Hey, little guy. I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”

 

The child only responded with a curious babble, and Raiden felt his chest hitch— _God, they’re not even old enough to speak—_ but somehow, he felt they understood that he was here to help. Their eyes were bright and inquisitive, and Raiden smiled behind his mask.

 

         He knew he needed to hurry, but he still felt the need to assign a name to that little face; the child was wearing a plastic bracelet, which he inspected carefully.

 

_GURLUKOVICH, SONECHKA_

_SEX: F_

_DOA: 3/24/2008_

_ISOLATION_

 

_Isolation._ Reading the word sickened him, so he focused on the name. “That’s a bit of a mouthful, yeah…?” he murmured, looking the little girl over; she took after her mother, with her head of smooth silver-blonde hair, and wore a long, slightly ratty nightgown. “How about Sunny for short?”

 

She gave a gap-toothed smile befitting her new nickname, understanding in her eyes, and Raiden had to close his eyes for a moment, fighting tears again, before he stood up.

 

“...Alright, up we go.” He lifted her carefully, assessing her comfort level as he moved; she seemed perfectly content in his arms, and he didn't want to move her to his back and risk losing sight of her just yet.

 

Now came the hard part. Raiden wasn't certain exactly what security measures were in place, and he’d prepared as much as he could, but there were too many unknown factors, and he could only pray for luck.

 

Nothing, as it turned out, was ever so easy as he wanted it to be.

 

Not a moment after carrying Sunny out of the door to her room, sirens began blaring, loud enough to drown the senses. Raiden tensed up, holding Sunny closer, but remained steady; this was what he was trained for, this he could handle.

 

He was halfway to the second door when he heard the soft hissing from the vents. A gaseous...something, spilled into the room, and Raiden’s eyes widened, feeling for his keycard. _Knockout gas?_ A sleeping Sunny he could handle, but drowsiness was less than ideal when searching for an escape route.

 

Raiden then made the mistake of opening his mouth to breathe.

 

His mouth filled immediately with the thick, metallic taste of blood. _Not knockout gas. Something worse._ A sick feeling rose in his chest, and he fumbled for his gas mask, pressing it securely to Sunny’s face, his skin heating up far too quickly. _Run_ , something instinctual in his mind screamed, his feet scrambling to obey just before his throat started burning, corroding, whatever vile chemicals they’d diffused into the air searing agony into his skin, fire in his lungs, like lava sublimated. _Run run run run._

 

The pain made it hard for him to think straight, to think of any escape plan, anything other than _get out get out get out_. His back felt bruised—likely he’d been shot at as he sprinted through the halls, down the stairs—but it was nothing, nothing at all compared to the torturous cycle of his lungs screaming for air, then screaming in agony as they were consumed in flames with every shuddering, wheezing inhale he managed. Every inch of his skin felt like it was being pressed to a hot oven. He hugged Sunny closer to his chest, praying to whatever god would listen to spare her from this hell.

 

His eyes were watering, and pain clouded his mind, and he could hardly draw breath without his whole body screaming for mercy, and he’d lost track of time, and he had no clue how he’d gotten here or how he was going to keep moving, but Raiden had found his way to the bottom floor. On legs that felt like they were sprinting independently from his mind, his bulletproof vest somehow holding up to the shots in his back, he shattered a floor-to-ceiling window with a kick and gasped for breath as if drowning, still running as fast as his legs would take him. The fresh air was little more than a false reassurance—the airborne toxin coated his windpipe now, burning agony in his chest—but damn it, Sunny was _free._

 

He sprinted for something like five blocks, thanking God it was as late at night as it was, before spotting a delivery truck of some sort driving in the opposite direction, hardly thinking twice before running after it and stowing away in its bay.

 

The truck’s engine was loud and old, but Raiden still clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle the wheezing, pained breaths he was taking, his other arm wrapped securely around Sunny, who was astoundingly calm. Sitting down for the first time in hours, everything began to catch up with him—his legs cramped up, he dry heaved several times, his skin felt like it was blistering, and his vision pulsed black at the edges, pain threatening to overwhelm his consciousness. Hell, a few bullets had grazed his legs and it was little more than an annoyance compared to the agony just attempting to breathe normally induced. He felt as if he’d scream if he so much as opened his mouth.

 

_Focus… Sunny…_

 

Raiden blinked rapidly to clear his vision, then looked down at the child. Sunny’s eyes were closed—momentarily gripped with panic, he shook her, and she gazed back at him, eyes bright and lively as ever.

 

_What…?_

 

He touched a hand to the skin on his cheek and winced. Rough, blistered, hot to the touch. Looked back down at Sunny, happy as a clam, peacefully asleep, her skin unbroken and smooth. Her breathing was gentle, calm. Normal.

 

_She’s immune…_

 

Raiden hugged her tighter, tears pricking his eyes, his chest swelling with relief. _God… thank god, she’s safe, she doesn’t have to suffer…_ He carefully pulled the gas mask off her face—it hadn’t been necessary in the first place, he failed to realize—and placed it on his own, delusionally hoping it’d help him breathe even the slightest bit easier.

 

Raiden looked back down at Sunny; her eyes were closed now, but every time they had been open, he’d noticed an unmistakable depth to her gaze, knowledge far beyond her years contained within. She seemed to understand him perfectly when he spoke, but he couldn't speak now; they would have to settle for attempting to communicate via eye contact, which made Raiden’s skin crawl on a good day.

 

On a whim, he set Sunny down, just across from him, so she could see his face and his arms were free, and signed in ASL, “ _Do you understand?_ ”

 

Sunny nodded.

 

_...What? No, no. This truck is bumpy, that must be it. There's no way._

 

“ _Do you understand me?_ ”, he repeated.

 

She nodded again. Then, perfectly understandable, her only impairment being the slight clumsiness of her tiny, chubby hands, Sunny signed, “ _Hi. Are you a doctor?_ ”

 

Raiden refrained from replying with another question—namely, _how on earth do you know ASL you’re not even two years old_ —and answered, attempting to soften his expression to one of reassurance, “ _No. I’m going to take you somewhere you won't get hurt anymore, OK?_ ” Then, after a pause: “ _Are you feeling OK? Nothing hurts, right?_ ”

 

Sunny nodded, presumably in response to both questions, and Raiden gave a pained smile behind his mask, relieved that she was truly unharmed. “ _What did you call me earlier?_ ” She carefully spelled out _S-A-N-I_ , then gave Raiden a curious look.

 

“ _S-U-N-N-Y. Like the sun. You can sign it like this._ ” He came up with the sign for her name on the spot, the letter S then “sunshine”.

 

She repeated her new nickname several times, then grinned. “ _Sun. It’s in the sky during the day, right?_ ”

 

Raiden felt his chest tighten, remembering the “ISOLATION” on her bracelet. “ _Yes, it is. It keeps us warm and helps plants grow. You’ll get to see soon, OK?_ ” And, now that he was remembering her bracelet, mostly as something to occupy himself with so he wouldn't start crying: “ _Can I see your hand for a moment?_ ”

 

Sunny offered her wrist obediently, and he carefully pulled off the bracelet, then threw it off the truck. Sensing her confused look, Raiden waved his hands for a moment, trying to decide how to explain what was happening to a toddler, then managed, “ _The bad people who hurt you might use that to follow us. I remember what’s on it, so it'll be OK._ ”

 

“ _OK,_ ” Sunny repeated, then tilted her head. “ _You were talking earlier. Why aren’t you talking now? Can the doctors hear us?_ ”

 

_Ah…_ Another difficult thing to explain to a toddler. “ _My throat doesn’t feel very good right now. Don’t worry, OK?_ ”

 

“ _You keep…_ ” Sunny fluttered her hands, searching for the right word. “ _Breathing loud._ ”

 

Raiden wheezed, attempting a smile. “ _Yes, I’ve been coughing a lot. I’ll be OK soon._ ” Would he, though? He had no idea of the nature of the chemical weapon used against him. The pain had dulled slightly, but it was still ever-present, flames licking his chest with every breath he took.

 

“ _You said they hurt me. They hurt you, too._ ”

 

_Fuck,_ he couldn’t cry right now. Not in front of Sunny, and salt in the blisters on his cheeks didn’t sound all that pleasant either. _Change the subject, change the subject._ “ _What was it like, in your room? If you want to tell me. I’ll make sure it never happens again if it was bad, OK?_ ”

 

She puffed her cheeks out for a moment. “ _I like the computer they gave me._ ”

 

...Even as smart as she was, Sunny was still just a child. Raiden prompted gently, “ _What would happen on a normal day for you?_ ”

 

Sunny was quiet for a long moment, apparently mulling the question over. “ _They used to put lots of wires and needles in me. They don’t do that anymore, but I liked that because even though it hurt they were in the room with me. After that they didn’t come in anymore._ ”

 

Raiden barely managed to mask an expression of horror, and shifted slightly closer to her, watching patiently. “ _Things come up on the computer screen that they want me to program for them. If I don’t finish it, they don’t give me any food. They put it through the little hole in the wall._ ”

 

_Jesus, those monsters._ He squeezed his hands into tight fists for a moment, inhaling sharply, then attempted to distract Sunny from what she’d just described. “ _You must know lots about computers._ ”

 

“ _Yeah,_ ” Sunny signed, giving a gap-toothed grin. “ _They had me use C# but I like Java._ ”

 

“ _Java…? Like, coffee…?”_

 

“ _Programming language._ ” She giggled, clear and sweet as a bell.

 

“ _Sunny, I think you might be smarter than I am…_ ” Raiden wheezed, an attempt at a laugh.

 

She fidgeted for a moment, hesitating on her next words. “ _What’s your name? I thought you were Mom at first, but you're just a nice man._ ”

 

He resisted the urge to give her another comforting hug, knowing he had to leave her arms free to speak, and swallowed painfully. Raiden was rather proud of the sign for his name, and he did his best to muster up the enthusiasm to show it off: “ _R-A-I-D-E-N. Raiden._ ” The letter R, flowing smoothly into “thunder” and then “lightning”.

 

Sunny repeated the name to herself a few times, looking a bit perturbed. “ _Thunder. That's bad weather… You're not like thunder. It's loud and scary. You're bright and nice, like…_ ” She beamed, almost mischievous. “ _Like ‘sunny’!”_

 

...Oh, damn it, he needed to hug her now, didn't he.

 

Raiden picked her up gently, holding her close; she was so small. So vulnerable, so sweet, despite the hell she was put through…

 

He eased up after a minute, still cradling Sunny in his arms, but holding her in a way that let her communicate. _Remember, you promised yourself you wouldn't cry._

 

“ _Why did you squeeze me like that?_ ” Sunny signed, her eyes big and worried. “ _Are the bad people coming back?_ ”

 

_Fuck._ A few tears escaped, burning a trail down his blistered cheeks. _Ow. Shit, this hurts. God, she doesn't even know what a hug is…_ He made some sort of involuntary noise of pain, reluctantly setting the child down so he could speak to her, and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, wincing as another flash of white-hot pain resulted.

 

“ _It’s…_ ” He signed slowly, overwhelmed, trying to get his emotions back under control. “ _That's a hug. You can hug people to show you care about them. It helps people feel better when they're sad, too._ ”

 

“ _Oh,_ ” Sunny signed in reply with her little arms, then crawled over to Raiden, and hugged him back.

 

He held her for several minutes; he was battered and exhausted, and she was falling victim to the sleepiness typical for someone her age, but he managed to keep one eye open and a steady, supportive arm around Sunny. Slowly, he noticed, the truck was stopping and starting more often, and driving less quickly overall; they’d reached another town. He woke Sunny gently, and managed to sign to her with one hand, “ _Getting off now._ ”

 

She nodded, and the next time the truck came to a stop, Raiden carefully jumped off, hugging Sunny close. It was pitch-black, and the light pollution was low enough that thousands, millions of stars were visible. He breathed a sigh of relief, plodding to the sidewalk and looking around dazedly. This town looked completely residential, and as far as he could tell, everyone was asleep; he sat down, wanting a moment of quiet to think of his next move. The snow felt cool underneath him, and, possessed by some animal need, he grabbed a handful, pushed his mask out of the way, and shoved it into his mouth, desperate for anything to soothe the persistent burning sensation.

 

It really didn't do much but wash down the chemical taste. _Worth a shot._

 

“ _Does that taste good? Can I have some?_ ” Sunny had already plopped down to inspect the snow herself, and Raiden wheezed lightly, gently taking her hands to stop her from doing so.

 

“ _It's not good for you. I only did that because my mouth is hurting right now._ ” He smiled weakly, realizing she could see his face again.

 

Sunny seemed to be studying him closely, coming up with ideas in her little brain, and Raiden waited patiently, not quite holding her gaze but instead looking at the stars behind her.

 

“ _I know you're not Mom now. But I read a little about family, on the computer. You feel like family, too._ ”

 

_Oh, god._ Another painful tug of emotion at his chest. He steeled himself, keeping his expression calm and watching quietly.

 

“ _You're not old enough for ‘dad’, I think,_ ” Sunny pondered, oblivious. “ _You’re more like a big brother… Can I call you that?_ ”

 

Raiden rubbed at his face again, preempting any more tears; this was almost too much to handle. When he replied, it was slow, deliberate. “ _...Of course you can, Sunny._ ”

 

The smile he received in return was so blindingly bright he immediately began to question himself. His original plan had been to drop Sunny off with Snake and Otacon anonymously, content only with knowing she'd be safe. But, now… _Shit. I can’t leave her, can I? Not after that…_

 

He swallowed hard. _Keep moving. Work it out with them when you get there._

 

After a careful, affectionate ruffle of Sunny’s hair, Raiden gently helped her into what was essentially the baby carrier on his back; he needed to move as quickly and safely as possible, and he figured he’d need both hands for what he was about to do. During his earlier contemplation, he’d noticed a quiet little house with a snowmobile parked neatly outside. Stealing would be inconvenient, but…

 

Before leaving, he carefully traced into the snow with his finger: _SORY ABOT YOUR SNOMABILE. XXX-141-5758_

 


	2. part of the noise when winter comes

         After about 10 minutes of driving, it occurred to Raiden that he did not, in fact, know how to drive.

 

         This had somehow failed to stop him from making it as far as he had already, so he decided not to think about it too hard, and instead selectively reactivated his nanomachines to allow him to navigate. He’d kept them deactivated during the retrieval—this was his responsibility, his mission to keep Sunny safe, and he didn't want assistance beyond what was absolutely essential—but some level of GPS nanocommunication was necessary when offroading in the Alaskan wilderness with zero visibility.

 

         Raiden’s lack of driving skill or experience only managed to impede him by forcing him to drive much more slowly and carefully than an experienced driver; winters in Alaska were harsh and unforgiving, and though his exosuit protected him from hypothermia, Sunny had no such assistance. After an hour of travel with her on his back, Raiden adjusted his harness to move Sunny to his chest, wrapping one arm around her in an attempt to transfer some of his body heat. She was shivering, and immediately clung to him tightly, her little hands wrapping around his arm. Raiden was briefly reminded of some nature documentary about river animals he’d watched while sleepless in the early hours of the morning, and allowed himself a brief smile, picturing Sunny as one of the baby otters who clung to logs to help them float.

 

         And then he got hit in the face with a branch.

 

_Damn, okay, I get the message. Keep my head up._

 

         Two hours in, Sunny tugged at his sleeve, and Raiden slowed the slowmobile to a jerky stop; she signed, more weakly than he would've liked, “ _Hungry._ ”

 

         He set her down gently in his lap, and signed, “ _I have a ration or two. They don't taste very good, but they'll fill you up. We’ll stop for a minute, and I’ll try and keep you warm while you eat, OK?_ ”

 

         “ _OK,_ ” Sunny affirmed. Then, after a pause: “ _Thank you, big brother._ ”

 

         Raiden could only nod quietly, suppressing the tears which would probably freeze solid on his face if he allowed them to fall, and dig a ration box out of his supplies. If he was being completely honest with himself, he was half-starved from the adrenaline crash, but like hell he was chancing running out of food while Sunny was with him. Besides, his throat still felt irradiated; he wasn't certain he could swallow properly.

 

         He held Sunny in his lap, running the engine of the snowmobile for any residual heat it could provide, and wrapped his arms around her loosely as she picked through the food. After eating everything she’d deemed acceptable, Sunny made a gesture indicating she was finished, and Raiden took the half-eaten ration box from her shivering hands, smiling gently.

 

         “ _Icky,_ ” she signed feebly, and Raiden gave a soft wheeze of a laugh.

 

         “ _Sorry. They're all like that. I’ll get you something good soon. Let’s get going, OK?_ ”

 

         “ _OK._ ” It was almost a secret handshake of sorts between them now, signing ‘OK’ to each other. Raiden settled Sunny carefully in his arms again, and got the snowmobile moving again, a little less cautiously than before.

 

         Another hour passed. Then another. Then a third. Raiden _knew_ where he was going, but he couldn't get a good sense of his pace, and Sunny shivering in his arm wasn't helping his nerves. That, and the fact that he'd stopped shivering altogether. Was that good or bad? He couldn't remember. _Keep moving. Just keep moving._

 

         Another half hour, just when Raiden was wondering if he could even keep this up for another minute, there was finally a dot on the radar. Then, a modest cabin in his field of vision. _Fuck. Safe. Finally, safe._

 

         He stopped the snowmobile, and carefully placed the sleeping Sunny in his back harness again, his shoes crunching against the fresh snow as he carefully approached the door. His legs were wobbling, not quite doing what he was telling them to, and black was overwhelming the corners of his vision again. _Keep moving, just keep moving. Almost there. She’ll be safe soon…_ He knocked at the door, so weakly it was barely audible above the howl of the wind. _Tired… hurts, everything hurts…_

 

         The lock clicked, three times in a row, and the door opened, just a crack. Then, a pair of eyes, full of suspicion, staring him down.

 

         Raiden held the gaze, his breath shallow, pleading with his eyes.

 

         “...Jesus— _Raiden?_ ”

 

         He nodded desperately. His lips felt frozen together.

 

         “Get in here, you're turning blue. What the hell is going _on_?”

 

         Taking one stumbling step into the room, he forced his mouth to open. “Sna—”

 

         Bile immediately rose in his throat, and he retched violently, barely avoiding coughing up blood on the carpet. _Fuck. Right. Can't talk. Why is everything so… so…_ He was staggering, one hand over his mouth, swaying dangerously. Snake was talking to him, but it was just frantic-sounding noise, buzzing in his ears. _It’s so warm in here… it’s…so…_

 

         Raiden’s legs buckled and gave way, and he collapsed facedown on the floor. He could vaguely hear Snake swear loudly, and someone else run into the room, sounding worried, talking to him, asking what was wrong. His muscles were refusing to cooperate with him; there were hands on his back, but he was too limp to comply with the movements, completely overwhelmed with the exhaustion he was finally allowed to feel. _We’re safe, it's all over…_

 

         His vision was going blurry, and he let his eyes close. One last thought rose to the surface of his mind before his consciousness faded completely.

 

_Sunny… you're home now._

  



	3. she gave me sleeping powder

_“...Jack?”_

 

_“...Jesus, Rose, I-I—”_

 

_“Just… save it.”_

 

_“...”_

 

_“I’m worried about you, Jack.”_

 

_“...”_

 

_“You're never home, and when you’re home, you never sleep. It’s not healthy.”_

 

 _“...you_ know _what I’m trying to do, right? I thought I explained everything to you, I-I…”_

 

_“I know, Jack.”_

 

_“...”_

 

_“...it’s all you ever talk about these days.”_

 

_“What?”_

 

_“Nothing. Just—I’m worried, is all.”_

 

_“...I’m fine. Just tired.”_

 

 _“Then_ sleep, _Jack.”_

 

_“Rose…”_

 

_“...”_

 

_“...you know I can’t.”_

 

 _“Can't you at least_ try _? For me?”_

 

 _“I_ have _been trying and it doesn't_ work _, okay?”_

 

_“...”_

 

_“...I just… I have to do this. I have to find that kid or I might never sleep at night, okay?”_

 

_“You know…”_

 

_“...”_

 

_“...”_

 

_“Rose?”_

 

_“...”_

 

_“...Rose, what?”_

 

_“...It’s just…”_

 

_“...”_

 

_“...I think you’re getting too obsessed with this.”_

 

_“...are you seriously—”_

 

 _“It's stressing me out, okay? Between this, and you not being able to find a job, and you always coming home a complete_ mess _, and—”_

 

_“Please, don’t say it. Please…”_

 

_“...and the baby. It’s too much, okay? Can't you think about someone other than yourself?”_

 

_“...”_

 

_“...maybe it was all that stress.”_

 

_“Rose, you don't mean that…”_

 

_“…”_

 

_“...you’re saying it was my fault?”_

 

_“I didn't say that. I’m just saying…”_

 

_“...”_

 

_“...stress is a high risk factor for miscarriages.”_

 

_“...Rose, I’m—”_

 

 _“Just—just,_ don’t _, okay, Jack? I can’t do this right now.”_

 

_“—I’m so—”_

 

_“Don’t.”_

 

_“...”_

 

_“...”_

 

_“...”_

 

_“...maybe we should take a break.”_

 

* * *

 

_His body folds into itself a million times, becoming a neat square so tiny it’s nearly invisible, and disintegrates, his consciousness scattering across the water._

 

* * *

 

       Raiden’s eyes snapped open, and he took in a few heavy breaths that inexplicably left a dull, burning ache in his throat. In contrast, his body felt… pleasantly warm. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a fire burning. He couldn't move his arms.

 

_...am I dead?_

 

       He sat up, reeling from the wave of dizziness and soreness that washed over him, and blinked, the fog clearing from his eyes and mind. He was sitting on a worn couch, something too itchy to be called a blanket draped over his legs. Looking down, he noted that he seemed to be wearing an enormous sweatshirt over his suit and vest, and whoever had put it on him hadn’t bothered to put his arms through the sleeves.

 

 _Sunny_ , Raiden remembered in a sickening flash, and the sweatshirt became a straitjacket as he fought his way out of the blanket, legs flailing, head buzzing.

 

       ...and then his surroundings clicked into place, and his memories of—was it last night? He had no clue what time it was—everything that had happened came rushing back.

 

_...they let me stay here?_

 

       He blinked dumbly at the pine walls, the fireplace, the floors littered with beer cans, books, cigarette butts, dog toys, and movie memorabilia.

 

_...so this is Snake’s house…_

 

       At the same time he was struggling to understand the situation, it somehow all made perfect sense.

 

       Raiden heard someone gasp quietly, and turned his gaze to the doorway. Otacon, holding a bundle of cloth to his chest, approached him carefully, looking noticeably frazzled. “Oh, good, you’re awake! Da—Snake, come in here, he’s awake!” He switched his tone disorientingly quickly, addressing Raiden in the same breath. “You’ve been out for—” he checked his watch— “a little over nine hours.”

 

       Raiden blinked at him, incredulous, and replied, “Nine hours?” Or, at least, he'd _tried_ to, but pushing air through his vocal chords felt a bit like how he imagined swallowing fire must feel, and his mouth was suddenly and without his permission full of the sticky taste of blood, so it was really more of a “ _Nnnh hhhgk—_ ”

 

       “Don’t—! Don’t try to talk, uhh...” Otacon shifted the bundle slightly, revealing he’d been holding a mug in his free hand. “We found traces of a respiratory neurotoxin on your vest. Pretty nasty stuff.”

 

       “No shit?” Raiden would have replied if he hadn’t just been instructed not to speak; he scratched it off mentally and tried for “You ran tests on my clothes?” before remembering again _why_ he couldn’t speak.  
  
_...Shit._

 

       He settled for a disoriented nod in reply, coughing hoarsely, sticking his arms through the too-long sweatshirt sleeves.

 

       “It’ll take 48 hours or so for your throat to heal. This might help in the meantime.” Otacon handed him the mug from arm’s length, his expression almost apprehensive. “It’s tea with honey and some other herbal… stuff? It’s supposed to… yeah.”

 

       Raiden peered into the mug for a moment before taking a sip, his hands shaking noticeably. Maybe Otacon had just been worried he’d drop it? It wasn’t a taste he was used to, but it went down smoothly, coating his burning throat in a cool, pleasant texture.  
  
       Looking up, he gave Otacon an appreciative nod, then squinted at the bundle of cloth in his arms. After a moment, the bundle shifted, curled up, and it clicked— _Sunny._

 

_She’s okay, they’re taking care of her. She’s safe._

 

       He looked pointedly at Sunny, then made the closest approximation of eye contact he could with Otacon.

 

       Otacon twitched slightly as if startled, then nodded. He approached carefully, shifting the blanket she was wrapped in and kneeling to Raiden’s seated position. “She’s asleep. We weren’t quite sure what to feed her, uh… We gave her a cup of milk and Snake got a can of peas cooked up and she seemed to be okay with that. But I didn’t know if—”

 

       As he continued to ramble, Raiden extended his free hand, and placed it gently to rest on Sunny’s back; through the layers of cloth, he could feel her chest rise with every breath, her little heart beating strong and steady, calm, _alive_. In and out, expand and contract. He allowed his eyes to slip shut, the presence of that living, healthy rhythm relaxing him more than nine hours of sleep had.

 

       —and then a door slammed open, and a familiar voice barked: “Raiden, what the _hell were you thinking?_ ”

 

       Raiden wheezed, almost dropping the mug. “Are you insane?” Snake continued, pacing past the couch; he’d clearly been simmering over the situation the whole time Raiden had been unconscious. “You easily could’ve gotten yourself killed. You’re lucky you even _made_ it here. What the hell happened?”

 

       “David—”  
  
       Both of them froze at once. Raiden tensed in response, but he was mostly just confused. _Is that his name?_  
  
       The pair was silent, eyes locked for a long moment, and then Otacon seemed to win whatever silent battle they were having. He cleared his throat, resuming in an even tone, “...give him a minute to finish his tea. He’s injured and probably exhausted. Plus, he can’t exactly talk back to you.”

 

 _Damn shame I can’t._ He was right, though; Raiden couldn’t shoot any sort of sarcastic reply back, so he took a long sip of tea instead, pointedly not making eye contact.

 

       All the yelling seemed to have woken Sunny up. Under the blanket she was dressed in an enormous t-shirt with some cartoon character on it, no doubt one of Otacon’s. She yawned, babbled curiously as Otacon worriedly clutched her closer. Snake muttered something under his breath, then gave a single, relenting grunt.

 

       “...This girl,” he murmured, his tone calmer. “She’s Olga’s?”

 

       Raiden nodded once, slightly terrified of the response.

 

       “...Jesus, kid.” Snake kneeled to his level, and— _what the fuck is he_ —wrapped his arms around him, crushingly tight. Raiden let out a strained yelp, panicking for a split second, expecting the breath to be knocked out of him, but for whatever reason it wasn’t, and he was frozen, processing— _is this a_ hug _? Is he fucking_ hugging _me?_

 

       He could breathe, mostly, but _if_ it was a hug it was a ridiculously strong and awkward one. Raiden let himself slump into the embrace(?), figuring there was no point in fighting it. Snake spoke a single word, something he couldn’t quite pick up, before shifting his position, moving his head to the left of Raiden’s. It was a quick gesture, meaningless to an outsider, but it floored Raiden immediately, and he almost missed what Snake said.

 

_He remembered which ear I can’t hear from…?_

 

       “You’re way too reckless. Be more careful next time, will you?”

 

       ...so maybe he’d been expecting too much when he’d thought Snake was going to compliment him. Still, Raiden gave a stiff nod in response. Snake let go, an odd, unreadable expression on his face.

 

       “You remember if you kick the bucket she does too, right? Could’ve gone a whole lot worse,” Snake muttered, apparently wanting to disregard whatever had just happened as much as Raiden did.

 

 _...god damn it, that’s right too, isn’t it?_ Shakily, Raiden sat his tea down on the side table next to the couch. His fingers felt a little numb, but Snake probably knew at least a little ASL, didn’t he? It was his only option for communication at this point without embarrassing himself with his slow, awkward handwriting.  
  
       “ _I had to do it,_ ” he signed, a little clumsy, slow.

 

       Snake nodded firmly and replied verbally, “I get it, kid.”

 

       Raiden let out a quiet sigh of relief at the easy understanding, and picked the mug back up, cupping its warmth between his hands and allowing the tingly feeling to seep in, breathing in the comforting scent. He couldn’t identify exactly what the feeling beginning to bloom unsteadily in his chest was, but he didn’t think he hated it.

 

       “Uh… I hope you don’t mind, but…” Otacon spoke up, hesitantly. “While you were out, I reprogrammed both of your nanomachines. I removed that killswitch from her, and scrambled both of your external location signals… can’t have people tracing us here, y’know.”  
  
_That’s a little…_ Raiden brooded quietly for a moment, sipping his tea; obviously, Otacon had done something helpful and necessary for him, but the idea of someone messing with his vitals while he wasn’t conscious was just uncomfortable. He got over it quickly, reminding himself what a miracle it was that he’d gotten here with both him and Sunny alive at all, and allowed gratitude to warm his chest, pressing his fingertips to his lips in a quick “ _Thank you_.”

 

       “He said thanks,” Snake translated awkwardly. Otacon gave an equally awkward nod of acknowledgement, then a crooked smile in return.

 

       “If you’re able to walk, it’d probably be a good idea to get yourself out of that suit… It’s overcompressing you, and there might be traces of neurotoxin still on it, but, well… we didn’t want to _undress_ you, obviously…” An expression of panicked regret was slowly setting into Otacon’s face. “I mean… uh, did you bring any belongings with you? I mean…”

 

       A quick look at him would have confirmed it, but Raiden shook his head anyway. He didn’t exactly _own_ any belongings at this point.  
  
       “Let me just… you can use our bathroom to clean up, and I’ll leave you some clothes outside the door, okay? Assuming you can stand and stuff…”  
  
_Could_ he stand? He took a final sip of the tea, then rose unsteadily, allowing the blanket to fall onto the floor. Dizziness blurred his vision, and he could feel his heart thumping wildly, but his legs cooperated with him. Yes, he could stand.

 

       He thanked Otacon again, assuming he could understand the sign by now. As he turned to leave, casting one last look at the bundle of sleeping Sunny, Snake clarified, “First door on the left.”

 

       Staggering into the bathroom, he was a little dismayed to note that it was only a half-bath, without a shower. There was a single, slightly tattered washcloth folded on the sink, and a bar of plain soap without a dish, and the water ran hot and cold, and this was presumably just how they lived all the time.

 

       Raiden let out a long, raspy sigh. _Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess._

 

       He’d been avoiding doing so, but now he forced his gaze up, into the slightly stained mirror. His skin was still red, streaked with burns and blisters, but it wasn’t as startling as he’d expected; he figured the damage would heal on its own, and even faster if by some miracle they owned any sort of lotion. What really startled him was the almost cartoonish dark circles under his eyes, his sallow complexion making him look undead. He wondered if he’d looked this awful before he’d passed out for nine hours, or if this zombielike face was somehow an improvement.  
  
       As he carefully worked the ponytail holder out of his silvery-blonde curls, he studied himself carefully, taking stock of the state of his face beyond the blisters. His eyelashes, curling wisps of stark white against the red burns and gray bags under his eyes, weren’t helping his appearance, but he figured the chances of there being mascara in this house were less than zero. He squinted, scowled at himself, and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes.

 

       A quiet knock on the door jarred him out of his own head, and he tried to mumble something like “It’s unlocked” before remembering his throat and just pulling it open.

 

       Otacon thrust a bundle of clothing into his hands. “Hope this is good. I put in a few so you can pick, uh… I figured my stuff might fit better so it’s all mine. It _should_ be clean. I think. I’ll let you, uh… yeah.” With that non-reassurance, he darted away, just as quickly as he’d shown up.

 

       Raiden didn’t have a high level of confidence in the quality of these clothes from that introduction, but it was this or stay in a possibly contaminated suit that squeezed his lungs to force them to function. With a sigh, he shut the door and pressed the two switches to decompress the suit, peeling it off of him. His body, thankfully, had been spared the chemical burns streaking his face. Only one of the shirts he’d been given was free of any suspicious stains and neutral-smelling. As a plus, instead of some weird cartoon it simply had plain text on it, probably some computing reference he didn’t understand. It hung loosely on his body, and the sweatpants he’d been given weren’t a much better fit, the fabric bunching at his ankles. Otacon wasn’t a big guy at all, so Raiden was mostly just confused, and maybe a little affronted. _Am I that small…?_

 

       He exhaled through his nose, shook himself, and picked up the washcloth. It wasn't much, and the soap would probably sting, but washing his face would help him at least _feel_ cleaner. Scrubbing himself as raw as he could without opening his wounds woke him up, and contradictorily, calmed him down.

 

       By the time he'd finished and stumbled back into the living room, Snake and Otacon were gone, their voices barely audible from the other room. Just before he threw himself back onto the couch, drained just from standing up for twenty minutes, his ear caught the barest hint of what might have been his name spoken. He stopped in his tracks. He wasn’t normally one to eavesdrop, but… they’d kind of invaded his privacy too, hadn’t they? If they were talking about him while under the impression he wasn't listening, he couldn't help but wonder what they were saying, could he? Maybe it would answer the question that had been simmering in the back of his mind— _how long will they let me stay here?_

 

       Raiden snuck towards the doorway, barefoot, his head angled left so he could hear. He heard what was _definitely_ a quiet “Raiden” and leaned closer, curious and apprehensive.

 

       “...he’s in no shape to be on his own out there.” Snake’s voice, unexpectedly somber. “But we can’t just be taking tenants here…”

 

       “She’s… attached to him, and he…” Otacon’s voice, a more tactful whisper, harder to make out. “...communicate… take care of ourselves, much less… extra hands.”

 

       “We can’t put him to work in the state he’s in.” The sound of something being set down on the counter. “Once he recovers we can think more about it, okay?”

 

       “...sorry to bring this up, but… was thinking…”

 

       “What about him?”

 

       “...Solidus… since he called him… maybe it’s a stretch, but you could say… your nephew, kind of.”

 

       Raiden's blood ran cold for a moment, but he stayed frozen, perfectly still, perfectly mute. The opposite room mirrored him, the air heavy, and Snake was quiet for a long time before he heard him speak again.

 

       “Goddamn it.”

 

       Silence, then the flick of a lighter.

 

       “Put that down, there’s a kid here,” Otacon hissed, momentarily forgetting to whisper.

 

       A hushed, deep sigh, another heavy silence. “...can’t leave him after that, can I?”

 

       For a reason he couldn't place, Raiden suddenly felt like he was going to burst into tears.

 

       He sucked in a sharp, unintentional breath, and quickly realized he’d just given away his position. He took a moment to compose himself anyway, breathing deeply, running a hand through his hair; he wasn't ready to _process_ this revelation yet, but he could try to recover from it. His chest and legs felt like lead, but he took a few heavy steps into the room anyway, not making eye contact. He could still feel them both stop and stare. Were they ashamed? Angry? Raiden couldn't tell, and he didn't want to know. At the same time, the step he’d taken potentially held the promise of a safe place to stay, people who weren’t trying to kill him, somewhere he could make himself useful, and—if he allowed himself the luxury of wishful thinking—a _family_.

 

       He crossed his fingers, held his breath, and willed his ragged throat to produce a single word: “...Hey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY THIS TOOK SO FUCKING. LONG


	4. claim back the boy you left behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT.. AGAIN..

Raiden avoided looking up, feeling two gazes boring straight through him, burning with an unidentifiable emotion, but he refused to wither. His throat revolted at being forced to produce words, and he coughed, throaty and raw and painful. Out of the corner of his watery eyes he saw Otacon move towards him, and shook his head rapidly, preemptively rejecting whatever help he was going to offer. He pawed at his throat for a moment, coaxing a few more necessary words out of his abused vocal cords. If he wanted to communicate, he’d have to do it in a way they could both understand.

 

“Pen.” A thick wheeze. “Paper. Please.”

 

Both seemed frozen for a moment, and then they moved in tandem, sharing an unseen connection. Snake rifled through the drawers and produced a half-empty legal pad, Otacon left the room and returned with a cheap ballpoint pen, and Raiden was presented with both and ushered to the table.

 

He swallowed heavily. He’d have to either choke down his shame or slowly force his shaky, untrained hands to produce clearer words, wracking his brain for magazines he’d thumbed through as a teenager to check his own spelling with no guarantee of accuracy.

 

He opted for speed, and to get the important things out of the way first.

 

 _her names sonechka,_ Raiden scrawled at the top, forcing his hand to still enough to produce legible letters. _sunny for short. birthday march 24 2008. she doesnt talk but undirstands and speaks sign languige. too smart for two years old. Not sure what they did but her bracelit said isolation_

 

Looking up, he only saw Snake reading over his shoulder, his expression somewhere between forced neutrality and mild horror. “Sunny, huh…”

 

Otacon returned a moment later, Sunny still wrapped in his arms, and placed a glass of water on the table in front of Raiden. He begrudgingly accepted it, taking a long sip to cool his aching throat while Otacon scanned the pad from beside him. After a moment, he gasped softly, looking down incredulously at the bundle he was holding. “She can understand you? Is she… how advanced would you say she is?”

 

Raiden nodded, picking the pen up again. _realy advansed. Forgot i was talking to a kid_

 

“Th-that’s crazy…!”

 

_She said they made her do programing. screwed with her brain i think but shes realy smart she can probibly read this and undirstand us talking_

 

All four of them were silent for another long moment, a heavy, aching quiet that filled the room.

 

“That’s…”

 

He’d gotten the important part out of the way. Addressing what he’d just overheard was more uncomfortable, but Raiden guessed they’d been holding their breaths for him to bring it up.

 

_we can just ignore all of that. if itd be better_

 

“What do you mean…?” Otacon’s voice was shakier than he’d expected.

 

 _the stuff about_ — He paused, hands trembling. How was he going to word this? — _solidus and me and you. you can ignore it if its easyer_

 

A deafening silence. Raiden bit his lip, scrambling to explain himself.

 

_dont feel like you have to keep me here becuz of that_

 

He crossed out _keep me here_ , wrote _let me stay_ above it.

 

There was another beat of stillness before Otacon blurted, “Raiden, you’re—”

 

“Let me,” Snake interrupted, his tone low and unreadable.

 

Raiden turned in his seat to face him, cupping the glass in his hands apprehensively. Seemingly gathering his thoughts, Snake rubbed his temples and let out a long breath.

 

“...You’re injured. We’re not going to just kick you out until you’re better.”

 

He exhaled, lowering his head. It wasn’t a guarantee—it was probably the bare minimum—but it was _something_.

 

“You got anywhere else to stay?”

 

Raiden shook his head.

 

“What about that lady of yours? Don’t you live with her?”

 

His shoulders stiffened, and he turned back to the pad, starting, _She_

 

He crossed it out. _We_

 

 ~~ _We_~~ _I_

 

He scribbled everything out, bearing down hard on the paper, swallowed dryly. _didnt work out between us. screwed it up_

 

The silence that followed was… awkward.

 

Raiden scrambled for some sort of humor to break the tension.

 

_im kinda homeless_

 

He internally whacked himself over the head.

 

“It’s, uh…” Otacon started.

 

“We have a couch.” Snake exhaled loudly, something that could almost be mistaken for a laugh. “Can you cook?”

 

 _kinda,_ Raiden wrote, then crossed it out, realizing he was underselling himself. _yeah ive been cooking for a while. i can do that ill clean too_

 

“Look, kid, I’m not looking for a maid, just…” Snake paused, apparently searching for the right word. “You can stay here for as long as you need, okay? Look after the—after Sunny.”

 

Unexpected tears pricked the corners of Raiden’s eyes. _What?_ He blinked them back, reflexively thanked Snake in ASL, then remembered Otacon and hastily wrote, _thank you_

 

“It’s not an issue.” Snake chuckled—actually _chuckled_ , was he fucking hallucinating?—and mused, “Y’know, I feel like the kid I met at Big Shell would tell me he deserved to be here, not try to earn his keep.”

 

Raiden’s hands shook. How the hell was he supposed to respond to that?

 

_guess im differint now_

 

A long pause, heavy but not awkward.

 

Snake shook his head. “Get some more rest. We can work out the rest of this later.”

 

_do you have a first aid kit_

 

“A first aid kit? What’s—”

 

_cuple of bullets got my legs i think. Havent realy checked_

 

It was as if he’d told them he was dying. “Raiden, that’s _serious_! Are you—”

 

“—Hold on, let me—”

 

“—honestly, say something next time, geez—”

 

“—pain tolerance too but that’s just ridiculous—”

 

Raiden shrank in his seat, embarrassed despite the circumstances; being fretted over like this made him uncomfortable for a reason he couldn’t quite reach in his mind. He’d honestly nearly forgotten about the possible wounds, a mild annoyance compared to the rawness of his throat.

 

He’d been expecting for the first aid kit to be presented to him so he could patch himself up, but when Snake produced the kit, still muttering to himself, he instead opened it on the table. Raiden shook his head and wheezed, drawing both of their attentions, then quickly signed, “ _I_ _can do it myself._ ”

 

A roll of gauze dangled from Snake’s hand. “You sure, kid?”

 

“ _It’s not really that bad, I can barely feel it._ ” He was increasingly uncomfortable with the attention, and so stunned by the ease with which Snake seemed to assume he’d be the one tending to his possible wounds, that he was at a loss as to how to accept the kindness. “ _Really, I… don’t worry about me, please._ ”

 

Snake sighed in response, long and heavy. “Alright, but I’m checking after you. I’m not dealing with any infected bullet wounds, got that?”

 

“ _Thanks anyway._ ” Raiden reached across the table and snapped up the first aid kit, wanting to get somewhere he could sort out his thoughts as quickly as possible. As he skittered out of the room, he could hear them bickering quietly, something about how he’d been “let off too easy”. Deciding he’d had more than enough of eavesdropping, he promptly locked himself in the bathroom. He hadn’t had to do it since he was just a kid, and he wasn’t sure if he remembered completely, but… _How hard can cleaning a bullet wound be, anyway?_

 

Luckily for Raiden, there were no actual bullet wounds; as he’d expected, upon closer inspection his legs had only been grazed. Only one wound was still bleeding—he wondered to himself how he hadn’t noticed the blood trickling down his calf—and he made quick work of disinfecting and bandaging everything up.

 

 _It’ll probably leave a scar_ , he thought absently. He allowed himself to dwell on the thought, watching the gauze tinge pink with blood under the surface, until his brain changed the topic: _Why are they being so damn nice to me?_

 

_Because they’re nice people, stupid. Just let them help you._

 

_I’ve asked enough. They’re already giving me more than god damn enough._

 

_What the hell is wrong with you?_

 

At some point, he’d moved from sitting to standing, staring at his own reflection.

 

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

 

He shook his head, pulled his hair back into a ponytail, shook his head again. His curls bounced pleasantly against the back of his neck with the motion, a grounding sensation, and he exhaled, the action still trailing sparks of pain up his throat.

 

_Just take it. Take what they’re giving you and try your best to deserve it._

 

Watching himself blink in the mirror, his first impulse was for some reason to try observing himself with his eyes closed.

 

He shook himself a third time, and hiked up the legs of his sweatpants so Snake would be able to get a closer look at his handiwork.

 

When Raiden returned to the kitchen, Snake and Otacon still seemed to be arguing, though Otacon was now holding Sunny closer, looking her in the eyes, seemingly fussing over her. He knocked gently on the table to announce his presence, then set the first aid kit down. “ _It was fine. Just graze wounds.”_

 

“Sit down, and put your legs up on the other chair,” Snake replied, approaching him without acknowledging what he’d signed. He gave his legs a quick once-over, then grunted. “Which antiseptic did you use?”

 

“ _Rubbing alcohol._ ”

 

“Stings, doesn’t it? Go for the neosporin next time. Looks like you’re patched up alright, though.”

 

Raiden shrugged. “ _Doesn’t matter either way._ ”

 

Snake seemed to kind of… pause, and Raiden noticed his fingers twitch, probably for a cigarette. “Jesus.”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

“Nothing. Just… get some more rest, will you?”

 

Raiden mimed writing, and Snake passed the pad he’d been using back to him. He quickly scribbled _let me see her_ , then flipped the page around to show Otacon.

 

“Oh—” He startled, glancing back down at Sunny in his arms. “She woke up a little bit ago, I’m not sure what she needs…”

 

_just let me. Please_

 

Raiden punctuated the statement with a bit of a pleading glance, and Otacon hesitated for a split second before handing him the bundle of cloth. He smiled down at her, weary and melancholy, and quickly wrote _thank you_ while he still had a free hand. Sunny smiled back at him as he stood, whatever had been bothering her apparently soothed.

 

The room was still for a moment, interrupted by the sound of Snake planting a firm hand on Raiden’s shoulder. He offered what could have been a smile. “You did good, kid.”

 

Raiden’s chest welled up and overflowed with an emotion he couldn’t identify, one that he was certain he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. The only gesture he could muster in response was a nod, and he left, carrying Sunny, before he could start tearing up again.

 

As they returned to the living room, Sunny reached up for him curiously, her expression inquisitive, understanding. Raiden took her tiny hand in his as he sat back on the couch, willing himself not to cry again. _You’re safe now,_ he mouthed. _We’ll take care of you, it’ll be okay._

 

Her eyes sparkled, and she took hold of his thumb for a moment before curling up again, satisfied. Raiden allowed himself another weak smile, slowly lying back, carefully nestling Sunny to his chest and kissing the top of her head goodnight.

 

He dreamt in vague, comforting clouds; dreams of hands pulling him safely from a thick fog, wounds healing themselves, and an all-consuming warmth brimming up from his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> if you like my work comments mean a lot to me so i appreciate whatever you have to say!! thanks for reading!


End file.
